Hetalia One-Shots
by Ariaprincess
Summary: Little stories about the nations. Mostly romance, but with a couple of humor one-shots added in for fun. Rated T just in case. [OLD FIC- DO NOT READ]
1. Chapter 1: Afraid of the Dark

Afraid of the Dark: GerIta

"GERMANY! HELP ME!"

Germany slammed open the door to Italy's room, almost breaking it off of its hinges. He flicked on the lights and yelled, "What is it? Is it Britain? The dirty bastard..." Germany looked around the room, seeing nothing, not even Italy. "Italy? Where are you?"

"R-right here..." said a quivering voice, from under the covers. Germany lifted the covers to reveal a small ball of Italy, curled into the fetal position. He was wearing clothes (thank god), but he seemed so miserable, Germany felt sorry for the nation. "Italy?" Italy lifted his head. "Oh, G-Germany!" "Why did you call for me?" "U-uh... I thought there was a monster in the closet, but it's gone now, yep! No monsters here, so I guess you can go now." "Oh, ok. Are you sure?" "Si! I'll be fine!" Germany left the room, but as soon as he flicked the lights off, Italy screeched and dove back under the covers. "DON'T TURN THE LIGHTS OFF!" Germany slowly walked back into the room and lifted up the covers, leaving the lights off.

"Italy, are you scared of the dark?"

" _V-ve_..."

Germany sighed. He knew there was only one thing that would appease the small nation. He slowly climbed into the small nation's bed. "Germany, what are you doing?" "What does it look like?" He pulled the small nation close to him. "Is this better?" " _S-si..."_ Germany laid his head back on the pillow and listened to the cute little verbal tic the Italian made when he snored. Somehow, this wasn't so bad. He could get used to this. Wait, what was he saying? This was disgusting! And yet, Germany found himself dreading the day the when little Italian would grow out of his fear of the dark.


	2. Chapter 2: Dance With Me

Dance With Me: SpaMano

WARNING: ROMANCEY STUFF LIKE KISSING AND STUFF

"Wait, you don't know how to dance?"

Romano blushed wildly at his roommate, his cheeks growing red. "W-what's it to ya, tomato bastard!" Spain shook his head, chuckling silently. "Nothing, Romano. I just thought you would know how to dance. Your brother knows how to dance-" "DON'T COMPARE ME TO THAT PASTA BASTARD OF A FRATELLO!" Romano flushed an even deeper shade of red. Spain smiled, and walked over to his CD player. "What are you doing?" "Nothing, nothing." A soft waltz started playing, and Spain walked over and took Romano's hands. "W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" "Shh... Just follow me." Spain placed his hand on Romano's waist. "Put your hand on my shoulder." Romano, whose face was now a crimson color akin to a tomato, did as he was told. "Now move your feet in a box pattern." They moved like this for a while, with Spain issuing instructions and Romano trying his best to follow and not step on Spain's feet too much. "You're doing well." Spain whispered in Romano's ear. As a response, Romano did a very un-Romano like thing.

He purred.

Spain smiled, stepping back from his partner. "I think we're good for today." Before he left the room, he handed Romano a gilded invitation.

 _You are invited to a formal dinner party at Austria's house._

 _6:00-10:00_

 _Formal dancing expected. Please bring a partner._

Romano smiled. That bastard.

~~~At Austria's Fancy Party~~~

"I don't know if I can do this!"

"You'll be fine! Just remember what we practiced yesterday."

As the music started, Austria and Hungary were the first to step onto the dance floor, followed by Prussia and Canada, and France and England. Romano took a deep breath, and stepped out with Spain onto the dance floor. A couple of murmurs broke out, but were soon silenced. "Ready?" Romano gulped, and nodded. They began to move across the dance floor, in rhythm to the music. Romano rested his head against Spain's shoulder as they danced, earning a low moan from Spain. At the end of the song, they removed themselves from the dance floor. Romano was in a giddy mood for the rest of the night. And he can tell you, the nation that kissed him was no bastard, tomato or otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3: Ticklish

Ticklish: FrUK

"Surprise, _angleterre!"_

England had no time to react as France jumped him from behind the couch, digging his fingers into the British nation's sides. England tried to protest, but was soon overcome by a fit of giggles and had to conserve air. "Looks like somebody's ticklish, no?" "St-stop that, f-frog!" but France had no intention of giving up now. They remained that way for half an hour, switching between France tickling England and England trying to strangle France. "I swear to god, you bloody frog, if you don't stop tickling me _right now,_ I will hide all of your magazines for the next three months, so help me!" France stopped immediately. "That was a bit cruel, _mon petit lapin."_ "Don't call me that." England grumbled. "Anyway, maybe I should continue when we're in bed tonight?" "I am NOT sleeping with you tonight. Nor any other night. Do you understand me, frog?" France moved even closer to the Brit. "Oh, but I know you _want to_." England shoved him. "Take your perverted thoughts out of this house. Now." "No no, _petit lapin_. I will cook dinner, take a shower, then go to bed, like any other night in this house." France smiled. "I know that if I don't cook dinner, the kitchen has a chance of spontaneously combusting." "OUT!"

France smiled as he took his place in the kitchen, tying the apron around his waist. The little Brit was a feisty one, admittedly, but he had his charm. It was shameless, the way they flirted. France would find a way, even if it meant tickling again in his sleep. He blushed at the thought, then went back to preparing dinner.


	4. Chapter 4: Don't Touch My Maple

Don't Touch My Maple: PruCan

"Prussia? Where's my maple syrup?" Prussia peeked around the threshold of the kitchen doorway. "Oh, that? There was only, like ¼ of an inch left, so I threw it away." Canada smiled a smile that would make Russia jealous. "What was that? I must have misheard you, right?" "Nope, you heard me right. Why do you like that stuff, anyway? It's gross, and it comes out of trees. It's like...tree sweat or tree blood or something." Prussia kept on blabbering on, completely oblivious to the fact that the more he talked, the more Canada started getting closer to the cabinet that held his hockey stick. "...so the awesome me would never be caught dead near maple syrup!" Canada started breathing heavily and opening the closet door. "I think I left my hockey stick in this closet, right?" Prussia got a faint glimmer of what Canada was about to do and turned around slowly. "Uh...Canada?" Canada was holding his hockey stick and was twisting it around in his hands.

"You have five seconds to run before I beat your brains in."

Prussia took off, screaming like a little baby. He managed to make it to the basement and lock the door. He heard pounding, then silence. Scary silence.

"That guy has serious issues. I wouldn't have thrown away that maple syrup if I had known he'd act like this."

" _A wise choice."_

Prussia screamed again and turned around. Canada was hanging upside down from the ceiling, holding his hockey stick. "Peekaboo." "WHAT THE **** DUDE!" Canada tackled Prussia and forced him into a chokehold. "Are you ever going to touch my maple again?" "N-no..." "Good." Canada released Prussia from the chokehold and pinned him down to the floor. "If you give me a kiss, I'll forgive you." Prussia grimaced, then kissed Canada on the cheek. Canada smiled, and kissed him back. Then he released him from the wrestler's hold.

"You still owe me a jar of maple syrup. Get the good kind, not that artificial stuff."

"Ugh. Fi-ine."


	5. Chapter 5: Ice Cream Party

Ice Cream Party: SuFin

"U-um, are you sure?"

"Totally! It's a really good idea! Nothing could ever possibly go wrong with this idea, ever."

Finland, Estonia, and Latvia were having a group meaning in the Group Meeting Corner (patent pending, by the makers of the EMO Corner, 18,000 customers to date). They were debating the idea of making Sweden some ice cream. Handmade, of course.

"I'll get the ice cream maker!"

Several minutes later, Latvia had already managed to get his tongue stuck on the side of the ice-cream maker.

"It's not even frozen yet!"

"Sowwy!"

"Um, Estonia, is this salt or sugar?" "Salt. I think."

"How much milk do we need?" "At least a gallon. Better safe than sorry."

"Let's make it chocolate!" "No, vanilla." "Vanilla _and_ chocolate?" "You, sir, are a genius."

~~~Three minutes later~~~

"Ow, this hurts! Estonia, are you _sure_ we're supposed to stir it by hand while the ice cream maker is going?" "I think so! How else are you supposed to get super creamed ice cream?"

"I mixed up the sugar and the salt again..."

"Is chocolate powder supposed to be green?"

~~~Thirty minutes later~~~

"OW! Estonia, my hand is really red and sore now. I think I need to take it out of the ice cream maker before I start bleeding." "Ok, Latvia. I guess you can take a break now."

"I found the vanilla extract! I mixed it with the chocolate and it turned purple...And now the purple is spreading up my arm..."

~~~Two minutes later~~~

"And, we're done!"

The mess in front of them was not ice cream. It was purple, watery, and payed more resemblance to nail polish than ice cream.

"We're screwed."

The door to the kitchen clicked open. All three turned around to see Sweden standing there, a rare look of shock upon his usually expressionless face. He was looking at Finland's purple streaked arm, Latvia's bleeding hand, and Estonia's otherwise unharmed body. "W-what happened?" Latvia and Estonia disappeared like magic, leaving Finland to take all the blame.

"It's not what it looks like!" Finland looked around the post apocalyptic kitchen. "Maybe it is.." He slumped down. "I was just trying to make ice cream for you..." "Aw..."

Sweden enfolded Finland in a hug. "You..didn't have to do that...for me..." Finland hugged him back, crying softly. Sweden stopped hugging him and wiped the tears out of his eyes. "You don't need to...cry...it's just ice cream." Finland smiled. "Do you want to go get some real ice cream that doesn't look like somebody vomited it up before serving it?" "Y-yes." And so, they left, leaving Latvia and Estonia to clean up the kitchen, because those two were dicks.


	6. Chapter 6: Rejection

Rejection: FrUK

"Iggy? Is that you?"

'Iggy', cheeks streaked with tears and not saying a word, fell onto the couch in his friend's living room. France, concerned with his friend's well-being, walked in to check on him. "What is wrong, _angleterre?_ " England didn't say a word. This was unusual to France, seeing as the idiot was usually so full of words he didn't breathe so he could finish saying all of them. "I'll go make you some tea. You can talk when you're ready." France hurried into the kitchen, put on some hot water, and waited for it to boil. He waited and waited for what seemed like eternity. _Finally,_ he poured the hot water into his friend's special cup (the one with the Union Jack), plunked in a tea bag, and rushed the steaming drink into the living room. "Here you go. It's Earl Grey, your favorite." England just looked at the mug. _France remembered what kind of tea I like._ "I'll go get you a blanket." France ran upstairs, leaving England to stare at the mug. He gingerly lifted the steaming brew to his lips and drank. It was scalding, and it made him feel better. He felt weight settle on his shoulders.

"Here you go." France tucked the blanket around the nation's shoulders. "T-thanks." France settle onto the couch next to him. "What happened?" England took a deep breath.

"America broke up with me."

This was a blow. The two nations had been going out for...what, almost a year? They were so close, everybody thought they would be getting married. But now...

"Why?"

England took another gulp of tea and a shaky breath. "He said we weren't communicating well enough, and it blew up into this whole fight. He finally kicked me out of the house and screamed that he didn't need me." England shed another tear and started to cry freely, his breathing ragged and his hands shaking. He almost dropped his mug of tea. "Poor _petit lapin._ Do you think you'll be ok?" France looked at the quietly sobbing nation and he felt his heart start pounding. _No. He just broke up with somebody, now is not the time!_ England sighed, his cheeks now wet and flushed. "I-I suppose. I just..I just..." France put his arm around England and pulled him in close. He complied, surprisingly. France's heart started beating like crazy, and he had to punch himself internally. "I'll be fine. It was coming apart at the end, anyway." He took a final gulp of tea. France took a deep breath. He had to get it out. He wouldn't be able to do this any longer without it coming out accidentally.

"You know, America isn't the only nation with an interest in you."

England looked up. "W-what do you mean?" France smiled, in spite of himself. "I know _somebody_ who's had their eye on you for quite a while." England stopped crying, with one final tear. "I know this isn't a good time for me, but...who?" France blushed. England smiled a little. "You bloody frog."

And then France kissed him.

England was surprised, but soon he closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss. It tasted like earl grey and strawberry chapstick. It felt like forever, but when they finally broke apart, they were both smiling. France started blushing. "I shouldn't have done that, you are probably still sore from breaking up with America."

"No, it's fine. I kind of always had a thing for you..." England looked away, embarrassed. "Do you want me to make dinner?" "No, you are the guest!" "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'll make dinner. You rest." "Ok."

That night, the two were watching a movie together when England got a call on his phone. "Hello? Oh, _hello America._ No. No. I understand. Yes. I'm sorry. Thank you. Goodbye." England set down the phone. "America just wanted to make sure I wasn't hurt too bad. We're not getting back together though. He guessed who I was with, and he wished us luck." France kissed England on the forehead and said "I'm glad." They were silent for a few seconds before England said, "I kinda dated America in the first place just to make you mad. But then it evolved into something else." France looked offended, then laughed. "You idiot." "Yeah, I'm glad that it worked out the way it did." And they kissed again. "You use strawberry Chapstick?" "Yes, you idiot. It keeps my lips from drying out. You could use some yourself." "Wanker."

France was happy. England was happy. Everything was right with the world. At least, until England figures out that France used up the last Earl Grey tea bag the night before.


	7. Chapter 7: Pretty

**Yay! In response to Amelie's review. Good for you! R and R please, I appreciate it.**

" _I don't understand why Big Brother likes you so much! You're ugly and your boobs are giant! Leave Big Brother alone, you ugly pig!"_

Ukraine sat in the corner of her room, tears silently running down her face. She tried to dry her eyes, but the tears just kept flowing.

 _I am ugly. Everybody says Belarus is the pretty one in the family, even Russia. I am a crybaby. I am plain. I am disgusting._

She tucked her knees under her chin and continued to wallow in self pity. She heard the doorbell ring, then a door slamming.

 _Probably another one of Belarus's admirers. Silly, really. We all know she will only marry Little Brother Russia._

She was about to attempt to get up and go get a tissue when she heard a knock on her door.

"Um, Ukraine? May I come in, _fată tristă_?"

Ukraine recognized the dialect. "R-Romania?"

"Da."

"Y-Yes. Come on in." Romania slowly opened the door, smiling. But that smile slowly turned to a worried expression when he saw how sad she looked.

"Oh...Should I come back later?"

"No, it's okay. I kind of needed somebody to cheer me up right now. Here, come sit down."

Ukraine gestured to the two armchairs in the corner of her room, one dusty and unused. She dusted it off with her fingertips and sat down. Romania smiled and sat down gently.

"What happened?"

Ukraine wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Belarus called me ugly again. She was angry that Russia wanted to spend some time with me today." Romania sighed. Ukraine gave a weak smile.

"You know she doesn't mean-"

"She's right."

Romania was taken aback. "Nu!"

"I'm pathetic. Ugly. Plain. Belarus is the pretty one. Everybody says so. I'm just the pathetic farmer girl with giant breasts. _Zhalyuhidnyy._ "

Romania tilted her chin up with his fingers. Her beautiful blue eyes were tearing up, and her lips were quivering.

 _Is it wrong of me to think she looks beautiful when she's sad?_

"Don't listen to her, _dragoste._ You are wonderful." Ukraine blushed. "N-No... I don't believe you." Romania smiled. "No, really. You have beautiful eyes, and your personality is wonderful." Ukraine blushed. She wasn't used to hearing compliments that weren't from perverts about her...um...figure.

"Listen to me." Romania took both of her hands. "Belarus's beauty? Completely put out of perspective when you take into account her psychotic and slightly stalker-ish personality. You? You're beautiful, and your personality shines bright. You don't need to listen to them. You _are_ beautiful."

Ukraine blushed red from the tips of her toes to her forehead. Romania leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"See you tomorrow, _fată frumoasă_?" Ukraine smiled.

"Так."


	8. Chapter 8: From Me to You

From Arthur to Oliver: Humor One-Shot

 **Texts sent from Arthur to Oliver, for who knows what:**

I _told_ you that slipping a dress into Flavio's closet wasn't a good idea.

Who did you poison this time? Francis? Oh god. Stay in the closet, I'm coming.

Feliciano and high heels? I hope you're prepared to pay the hospital bill. No, I'm not loaning you anything.

Okay, what body parts did you remove from whose body?

No, it is not physically possible to re-attach somebody's spleen.

You are too old for separation anxiety. No, not even for a tarantula.

Okay, I know you aren't at home baking. You're on the news, and I hope you're prepared for the dry-cleaning bill. And put the chainsaw back when you get home.

Allen does not look good in a miniskirt, Oliver. Send me photos, please.

Stop sending me pictures of knives "for comparison purposes"!

Francois called. He said you were measuring him for a noose while he slept. What are you planning?

Oliver, my Netflix "continue watching" is filled with horror movies. Get your own account.

Okay, _how_ far are you away from here and which tree are you stuck in?

Sod Prussia, I think you look _fabulous_ in a skirt.

 **Texts sent from Oliver to Arthur (completely unrelated)** :

Um, Artie? How much detergent does it take to get blood out of an...um...pink scarf?

No, I'm not drunk. Gilen, yes, but not me.

No, of course I don't know where the fifty missing flamingos are.

Artie, did you take my pink frosting?

Yes, of course I hid the body. Oops...wrong number. Sorry, Artie~

You can't bribe me with cupcakes this time, Artie. I'm texting Francis the photos of you in a maid dress.

No, I'm not giving you bail money. It's not my fault you decided to get drunk with Francis.

Did you hide my sweater vest? The pink one?

Stop cluttering up my Youtube account with Baking How-Tos! They never work, and last time you nearly burned the kitchen down! Just accept the fact that my cupcakes will always be better!

Are we out of arsenic?

Yes, raspberries are my favorite fruit and my favorite color is pink. How is this relevant to penguins?

I need a new apron. I got blood all over the latest one and it's not coming out. Yes, I used the detergent. In the washing machine? No. To hide the blood on the carpet? Maybe...

Kuro told me that Francis told him that you got pictures of him in a bathing suit. Send them to me!

Just accept it, Artie. Look, you burned the bread, but that doesn't mean that the house catching on fire was relevant in any way!


	9. Chapter 9: He's Sick

He's Sick: No Pairings

"He hasn't come out of his room all day." France replied, shaking his head.

"No way! Does he let you in?"

"N-no. Usually he does when he's sick. Because I make amazing chicken soup." France chuckled. America remained unfazed.

"Something must be dreadfully wrong then. Do you think he has a cold?"

"If he does, I would suggest not putting a hamburger on his head - again."

"Hey, it's not my fault that the Amazing Healing Power of the Hamburger does not apply to him." America huffed, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Hm, I think my chicken soup might have the same healing powers of your Miraculous Hamburger Whatever." America shook his head.

"Nah, bruh, Hamburgers cure all."

The two walked away, talking about the pros and cons of Hamburger Healing Power. England was forgotten.

...

England glanced at the clock and groaned, his head throbbing.

"How many hours until this day is over?"

He fell back onto his pillow, the edges stained with tears.

"Bloody July 4th."

 **Hetalia Headcanon No. 1: England comes down with a cold and a fever every July 4th, and he's usually too depressed to come out of his room.**


	10. Chapter 10: Halloween Special

"Whoa! That's an awesome Halloween costume, brah!"

"Thank you! I am going as a polar bear!" Russia tilted his head and showed off his fuzzy bear

ears. America smiled and beckoned him inside.

"I gotta admit, I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I did not want to come. But China was going to be here, so here I am." Russia's smile grew icier as he walked inside.

"Oh no. Who invited the evil creepy wanker?" "Hello meester England~! I love your costume!" England was dressed as a vampire, complete with a high necked cape, pasty complexion, and tiny fangs. "T-thanks. You make a very cute polar bear." Russia patted him on the back and said, "I like polar bears because they are cute and can chew your face off!" "Ah, I see." England moved away to talk to Germany, who was dressed like a zombie. He had stitches up and down his face and neck, and his clothing was tattered.

"I didn't know you enjoyed dressing up for Halloween!"

"I don't." Germany's eye twitched. "Italy made me."

"Germaaaaaaaaaany!" Italy ran forward and glomped him aggressively. "Do you like my costume?" Italy was dressed as a werewolf, with oversized paws and ears and cute lil' fangs.

"Yes, Italy. Your costume is amazing." Germany tugged at the collar of his vest. "Now can we go?"

"Noooooo! We haven't even gone trick or treating yet!"

"WE ARE GROWN ADULTS!"

"Still, going begging for candy is fun, no?" France swooped in majestically and slung his arm around Germany's shoulder. He was dressed as a prince, with a baby blue tuxedo jacket and a rose in his boutonniere.

"See?"

"HOLY F*** PRUSSIA WHAT ARE YOU WEARING!?" Germany was facing the doorway, a look of shock upon his face.

"I am ze amazing Elsa!" Prussia twirled fabulously to show off his halloween costume. Germany seemed ready to slap him when England shoved a beer into his hand.

"Just get through it, it's only one night."

Germany nodded and downed the beverage in one gulp.

"Alright dudes, I totally have the best costume of all time!" America's costume was basically him wrapped in toilet paper, but bandages instead of toilet paper (because even America wasn't that low).

"You're..."

"A mummy! Isn't that amazing?"

"Absolutely. By the way, has anybody seen Canadia?"

"It's Canada!" A small voice in the corner rang out. Canada was dressed as a ghost, and he was blushing underneath the white sheet.

"Oh, there you are!"

"Oh are we going to go trick-or-treating now?" Japan whispered quietly, his neko ears perking up.

"Sure are, brah! I wonder how many of us are going to get arrested!"

...

"Lets see, Prussia got arrested for "public indecency", France got arrested for sexual assault, and, um, everybody else just got yelled at." Italy counted the casualties off on his fingertips.

"Hey! At least we got candy!" America opened up his bag and smiled. "I got, like, 15 different candy bars!" England looked disgusted. "You mean packaged pieces of bark? Because that's what they taste like." America stuck out his tongue. "Your candy is just as weird as mine. Honestly? Who makes a candy called 'Shrimps and Bananas' and Black Licorice flavored gum?" America made a disgusted face.

"I-I was drunk, okay? Besides, Japan makes much weirder candies then I do!" England stuttered out.

"Yes, I made Salty Tomato Candy for Romano and Burger shaped candy for America." Japan said calmly. Romano popped one of the small red candies in his mouth. "Don't judge, bastards!"

"See? Who eats burger-shaped chocolate!" England yelled. "Who eats shrimp shaped gummies?" America shot back.

"I also made candy shaped like kitten tongues." Russia said pleasantly.

Everybody just stared at him.

"It is very good chocolate."

 **Every candy mentioned in this story is real. Yes, even the salty tomato candy. And in my opinion, British chocolate is better then american chocolate. Runs away quickly.**


	11. Chapter 11: I Love You

"P-Prussia, um, I made you this card for your birthday-"

Canada's face fell as Prussia walked right past him, ignoring the handmade card he offered. Canada sighed.

"Another year, he never notices."

Turning around, he trudged back to his house through the snow. It really was pretty, the soft drifts tumbling softly through the air like little feathers, but Canada was too depressed to notice.

When home, he raced up to his room, ignoring the calls of _how'd it go_ and _did you tell him_ from his brother. He threw open the door and sunk into the comfort of his bed, allowing tears to stain the comforter and pillowcase.

 _Why? Why will he never notice me? What do I have to do?_

He shakily grasped the mechanical pencil he kept on his bedside table. Pushing out the lead, he shakily made criss-cross marks on his left wrist. The skin where the pencil scraped turned red and puffed up, highlighted on his pale skin.

They always faded by morning.

A few knocks on the door of his bedroom startled him. He threw the pencil under his bed and sat up quickly.

"Canada? Hey, Canada! The awesome me is here to see you!"

"P-Prussia?"

"The one and only!" The door was slammed open and the glory of the albino, grinning, amazingly awesome Prussia was standing in his doorway! Canada was tempted to squeal, but he kept his fangirl urges in.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't see you earlier. I just-"

"Didn't notice me. I hear that a lot." Canada sighed. Prussia rubbed his neck.

"Y-yeah. Anyway, I heard you had something for me?"

Canada thrust the card at him with both hands, not looking. His face flushed as Prussia opened the handmade card.

"Dear Prussia. I've been trying to tell you this for a while now, but I never worked up the courage. The truth is..."

Prussia grinned as he read the last sentence.

"...I love you."

Prussia stood there for a few minutes before throwing himself onto Canada, enfolding him into a hug and knocking him over. Canada gasped at the unexpected weight, falling backwards onto the bed.

"P-Prussia..."

"I love you too."

Prussia released Canada from his grip, giggling like a maniac. He grabbed him by the wrist to pull him up, his sweater sleeve slipping and revealing the pencil marks.

"Canada...what are those?"

"T-they're just pencil scratches..."

Prussia enfolded Canada in another hug, gripping him tighter and tighter. He ignored the fact that his shirt was getting soaked with tears, that Matthew was crying, that the scratches were fading, and they sat there, holding each other.

"Why?"

"You never noticed. I've tried to talk to you for three years now, and you never noticed me. Nobody ever did. I just gave up."

Prussia pulled Canada to his feet and dusted off his thick wool sweater.

"I've noticed you now. And I won't forget you ever again."

 **Yay! I suck at writing romance! And good endings!**

 **If you have any requests, please send them to me, and I will try my best to fullfill them...**


	12. Chapter 12: Sick Day

**I meant to publish this one a long time ago, but I kinda forgot about it...**

Sick Day: PruCan

Prussia was annoyed. Why now, of all days? He was enjoying some perfectly good beer with Spain when his phone had to ring! And now they could all hear his ringtone...

" _Very Hardcore German Sparkle Party, Sparkle Party Sparkle Party_ -"

Prussia fumbled with his phone and flipped it open, amidst guffawing laughter from Spain. His voice filled with malice, he growled into the phone, "This better be worth it. What do you want?"

"P-Prussia?" There was a sniffling sound, and then a cough.

"Canada?" Prussia felt bad that he had shouted at the gentle boy. "What is wrong?"

"Can I c-crash at your place? I was visiting America and I think I picked up something nasty..." Spain made wiggly eyebrows at Prussia and Prussia flipped Spain off. While Spain complained about what an _idiota_ he was, Prussia replied, "Yeah, sure, come on over! I'm at Spain's house at the moment, but I'll be over A.S.A.P." He clicked the power button and stuffed it in his bag.

"Seeya, Spain. Gotta take care of a certain Canadian."

"See you soon, _amigo!"_

Prussia hopped into his sleek red sports car (awesome AF) and drove away as awesomely as humanly possible into the sunset like a boss.

...

The doorbell rang a few minutes after Prussia got home.

"H-hello? *cough* Prussia?"

Prussia smiled at the sniveling Canadian. "Hey, bro! C'mon in! You get the couch, and some awesome blankets and all the ice-cream you want, cause I'm just that fucking awesome!"

Canada smiled weakly. "Thanks." He stumbled into the room and crashed onto the couch with a loud _thud._ Prussia smirked. He covered the Canadian with a plaid blanket and said, "I'm gonna go get you some ice-cream."

Prussia entered the kitchen and opened the freezer door. "I BOUGHT MAPLE SYRUP ICE-CREAM DO YOU WANT IT?"

A barely audible reply emanated from the other room.

"What was that?"

"Y-Yes."

Prussia scooped three huge scoops of the pale brown ice cream into a bowl and stuck a spoon into the mix.

"Here ya go." Prussia pushed the bowl to Canada, who had moved himself into a sitting position.

"T-thanks..." Canada spooned some of the delicious cold dessert into his mouth and sighed at the flavor.

"You bought maple syrup flavored ice cream...for me?"

"Well, duh." Prussia rubbed his neck. "Cause I figured you would stop by to see the AWESOME ME sometime soon, and I wanted to have dessert ready for you, 'cuz I'm Just."

"No..."

"That."

"Please, no."

"AWESOME!"

Canada sighed, and ate another bite of ice-cream. Then, he sneezed.

" _Tishoo!"_

Prussia burst into laughter. "Dude, you sneeze like a kitten!" Canada pouted. "No."

"Uhuh."

"Nope."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Don't insult yourself. It's endearing." Canada's face flushed even redder, and Prussia grinned.

"See, look, you're all red."

Canada just ate another spoonful of ice-cream and pouted. Prussia thought he looked adorable, with the spoon sticking out of his mouth and his tomato-red face.

"Is not funny!" Canada tried to look intimidating, a feat he was not achieving due to the fact his words were all garbled because of the spoon in his mouth and he was all flustered.

"Stop getting angry, you'll make your cold worse." Prussia pushed Canada back down into the couch and pulled the blanket back up to his neck. Canada protested at first, thrashing around like a dying fish. Prussia just grabbed the bowl of ice-cream and pulled the spoon out of his mouth. Canada, by then, was sweating and burning up with fever.

"See, what did I tell you?"

"Mmhmm..."

"Say 'ah'."

Canada's eyes widened.

"N-never. That's demeaning."

"Look, do you want ice-cream? 'Cuz I can just eat this myself."

Canada willingly opened his mouth, too tired to protest any longer. Prussia spoon-fed him a spoonful of maple goodness. The cold concoction melted on his tongue, filling his mouth with the flavor.

"See, that wasn't that bad, was it? I have the best f*cking ideas ever."

"S-sure. Just feed me more ice-cream."

They stayed like this for a while, making aimless chatter while Prussia spoon-fed him. Finally, the bowl was emptied. Canada was about to slip into sleep when he felt Prussia plant a small kiss on his forehead.

"Get well soon."


	13. Chapter 13: Ladybugs

**Dang...I forgot this existed.**

"DUDES! You gotta help meeeee!"

America was freaking out. Not only was he fifteen minutes late to the World Conference, he was panting, and his cheeks were flushed.

"What is it, you idiot?"

"There's like, an invasion of ladybugs in my country! It's creeping me out, dude!" England sighed. "Are you sure?" "Totally! One landed on my face!" "What are we supposed to do about it?" "I don't know! Just come with me and try to get them to go away!" Germany stood up, grimacing. "Come on. Let's go stop ladybugs from landing on America's face."

_In 'MURICA_

"See? See? It's creepy!"

It truly was a lot of ladybugs. They were completely covering trees, making it look like the trees had red bark. That was moving.

"That is... a lot of ladybugs." "Oh really? What tipped you off, genius?!"

Italy was inspecting the tree. "They're really cute, Germany!... AH ONE LANDED ON ME HELP ME GERMANY HELP HELP HELP IT'S GOING TO EAT ME!"

"It's harmless, Italy. It's just a bug." "Oh..." "Ew, it's eating another bug! That's just gross..." "I wonder if they like pasta~" "They're bugs, Italy." "But everybody loves pasta, even bugs! I figured that out when I accidently left a plate of pasta out overnight, and in the morning, there were these little squirmy white bugs all over it!" "...Those are maggots, Italy."


End file.
